


The Rest Will Come

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2092722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After LA, they run. There is no grand plan, no thinking ahead, despite everything Hannibal has taught them all over the years. And when they finally pause to catch their breath, reality comes crashing down for both Face and BA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rest Will Come

After LA, they run. There is no grand plan, no thinking ahead, despite everything Hannibal has taught them all over the years. BA drives, swapping vehicles whenever they can, swapping number plates whenever they can’t, and they all take it in turns behind the wheel, no real direction, no destination except away from LA. Murdock deals with getting them food and drink, or whatever passes for food and drink in sleazy roadside diners and rest-stop convenience stores. 

Face himself takes charge of getting hold of cold hard cash in order to let Murdock deal with everything else, using scams he hasn’t had to use since he was a teenager on the run from yet another terrible foster home, as well as resorting to picking a few pockets when his scams don’t work. Hannibal just coordinates it all, a cigar tucked between his lips nearly constantly, a tired yet satisfied smirk on his face as he watches his boys work. 

They run. For five days, they run as fast and as hard as they can. None of them question the need to run, none of them ever asks if they’ve done the right thing by fleeing custody for a second time. None of them want to be apart again, Face believes, and none of them trust the military to work through the whole mess with the plates and Morrison and Pike and Lynch, or whatever the hell the man’s name actually was. Lynch number two had only complicated matters further. So they don’t talk about it, those five days. They just run.

They sleep in whatever car or van they have, one person awake and driving at all times. Even Murdock takes a turn behind the wheel, after those first two days when he couldn’t really see straight. Face still feels terrible about that, but his best friend had assured him repeatedly that he was fine, he’d just got his bell rung a little when he’d been shot in the head. Turned out a Kevlar helmet wasn’t completely perfect protection after all. Hannibal had diagnosed a mild concussion, Murdock had taken some Tylenol, and they’d woken him up every few hours just in case. By the time day three came around, by the time they were crossing yet another state border, their pilot was fine.

They keep running, driving just under the speed limit, taking side roads when there are traffic jams, taking the highways whenever they can. For whatever reason, they seem to avoid any sort of trouble, no close calls, except for once when a police patrol car pulled into a petrol station just as they were leaving. Perhaps it’s Charissa, working behind the scenes to direct the search elsewhere – Face just hopes she hasn’t got into too much trouble for the whole mess at the docks. Of course, he also hopes no one figures out that it was her who slipped him the handcuff key, hopes they just assume it was the A Team doing what they always do, being as brilliant at escaping as they always were at anything else they tried.

Hannibal hasn’t commented specifically, hasn’t praised his actions, but Face remembers the proud look his colonel had directed his way back in the prison van. He keeps that thought close to his heart during those difficult first days. Hannibal had known, somehow, that Face had a way out for them. He couldn’t have seen the kiss, already in the van before Charissa stopped Face, but the older man had just known. The man with the plan, only in this case it had been Face who made the plans, Face and his fiery ex.

That had been one hell of a kiss, Face thinks, but he has no real feelings left for the woman. Things didn’t work out for them before, in fact they had ended as disastrously as they could possibly have ended, and while he can’t deny he still finds her physically attractive – and one hell of a good kisser – they’d never make each other happy, especially now. He’s always been attracted to strong women, and strong men too. He doesn’t know what that says about him, to be honest; maybe he has a secret need to be dominated, or maybe he just likes a challenge. 

Charissa had certainly been one hell of a challenge.

But she’d given him the means to free his team; his colonel and his best friend and his… something. Face doesn’t have a word for what Bosco is to him at the moment. They hadn’t got as far as having the ‘relationship talk’ and determining their true status before the whole disastrous mission back in Iraq, before they were thrown into different maximum security prisons, and they’d hardly had the time for a heart to heart in the midst of all the running since their two escapes. Haven’t even had two minutes alone together. 

It had been new between them back then, still very new – barely even a month, Face remembers now with a tired smile, since BA had grabbed him and kissed him, in the middle of a mission gone wrong. They’d both thought they were going to die, nothing they could do, no more tricks to be tried or plans to come up with, and Bosco had been the one to pull Face close, claiming his lips in a burning kiss. 

After Hannibal and Murdock’s last minute rescue, things should have been awkward between them, but they weren’t, for whatever reason. Things had never really been awkward between the two of them; they’d butted heads at times in the past but their friendship had been fairly steady and uneventful – the kissing just seemed to fit in fine, and then the hand jobs and blow jobs were natural next steps. Eventually, they had stopped trying to fight it and just fallen into bed together. And it had been incredible, Face remembers, blushing now.

But that had all been a long time ago now, back in the desert heat of Iraq. Stolen moments in the middle of a city of tents, always on edge, always looking over their shoulders. No time after Hannibal had engineered their first escapes, certainly no time now Face had engineered their second. No time for any kind of sex or relationship stuff, not while they are still running.

And they are still running, five days in. That’s enough time for Face to start dwelling on things, to wonder if they’ve made the right choices. If he’s made the right decisions for all of them.

They didn’t have to use the handcuff key, after all. They could have stayed in the prison van and waited to see what happened – for Face, that had been simply unthinkable, and the speed at which the other members of his team had leapt at the chance to escape showed he wasn’t the only one thinking that way. But they haven’t talked about it, not while they’re running. Not yet.

Hannibal hasn’t praised him, not directly, but he has spoken around the subject. Has complimented the way all of them worked together back at the docks, improvising as they always seem to end up doing when a plan goes wrong. Praised the way BA got to Face before Pike could shoot him. Praised the way Murdock held it together even after Lynch-the-first shot him in the head. 

He hasn’t praised Face out loud, but the memory of that pride on his colonel’s rugged features has stayed with Face these long days driving, and Hannibal has been more physical with him than normal, which is saying something since Hannibal is a highly tactile man at the best of times. A big hand squeezing Face’s shoulder in the van, an arm around his shoulders as they walk into a diner – little signs the colonel is content. Or as content as any of them can be.

By the end of day five, they are all stiff and tired and sore, and Hannibal is naturally the one who makes the decision to stop, at last. Just for one night. Showers, certainly, all round. Real beds rather than trying to sleep another night in their seats. A chance to stretch out tired muscles. A chance for Murdock to shake off the last of his lingering headache. And sleep, above all things. Just a chance to sleep.

Two separate rooms, in an attempt to draw as little attention to themselves as possible, but Face is far too exhausted to be pleased when he finds himself sharing with BA. Too exhausted to do much at all, it turns out, as he finds himself standing in the middle of the room between two tiny beds, just staring at the wall. It takes BA elbowing him in the small of the back to shake him out of his stupor, and he just sinks down onto one of the beds, wincing when he feels just how thin the mattress really is.

“Don’t you fall asleep in them clothes, Faceman.” BA seems to have more energy, somehow, and Face just sits and watches the other man shuffle around in the small space, unpacking the few things they’ve got between them – a couple of bottles of water, a chocolate bar, a change of clothes, some first aid supplies. “You know you’ll feel better after a shower. Assuming this place got some hot water.”

Face finds the energy to nod, though the strength to stand up again seems beyond him, let alone the effort involved in getting undressed. “Yeah, I know,” he murmurs, and BA laughs at him, a tired laugh, his deep voice soft in the dimly lit room.

“C’mere, Face,” the big guy says as he comes to kneel in front of him, and Face just tips his head on one side and lets BA undo the buttons on his shirt, those large fingers always surprisingly nimble. “Should change the dressings again anyway.”

“They’re fine.” Face was the only one really injured at the docks, apart from Murdock and his concussion. A gash on his left thigh that had needed six stitches from the paramedics, and some nasty bruises and scrapes on his left forearm and elbow, all sustained as he slid down the crashed containers after his escape from the wildly leaning ship. After that damn rocket launcher changed everything.

“Still, let me look.” So Face just lets BA undress him down to his briefs, slowly and steadily, those big hands carefully peeling off the bandages from around his arm and his leg. He hisses a little as the scrapes on his arm catch slightly – they weren’t deep and they were already scabbing over, but some had wept slightly, tearing open again now despite how gently the other man works. Face’s leg looks fine, no sign of infection, and the stitches are itching already, so he knows that’s healing well. His arm will heal up too, in time, though the bruising is still vicious shades of black and blue, and the muscles have tightened up a little where he’s been sitting in various cars for so many days. After a careful inspection, BA seems to reach the same conclusion. “Looking good, man. Well, you know what I mean.”

“I know.” But Face stops the other man when he moves to get the medical supplies. “Leave them open for now, a shower won’t hurt them.” Might help a lot, actually – BA was right, Face knows, he’ll feel better after a shower. Assuming there is hot water. Which, in a place like this, might be a lot to ask for.

BA stays kneeling in front of him for a moment, and Face wonders dimly if he should lean in for a kiss, or ask the other man to perhaps join him in the shower. But before he can do either of those things, the big guy is up and moving, turning his back to Face and starting to get undressed himself. Not the time or the place to discuss the big things, Face thinks again, and for all he knows Bosco has no interest in resuming whatever it was they had started in Iraq. Maybe Face had just been in the right place at the right time, had been something BA needed then but didn’t need now.

Or maybe he was overthinking things and was really more exhausted that he realised. He never did sleep well sitting up, especially in a moving vehicle. 

The shower was warm rather than hot, but the spray was strong and, amazingly, the motel had even provided complimentary shampoo-conditioner-soap. Face didn’t stay in for too long though, all too aware of his teammate on the other side of the door waiting for his own chance to clean up before some much needed sleep in a real bed. His arm throbbed the whole time as he quickly washed his hair, and he cursed again the guards that had decided to cuff his hands behind his back even with his arm obviously bandaged up.

Face slips back into his briefs before leaving the tiny bathroom, exchanging nods with BA as the other man disappears quickly inside, and again he stands lost between the two beds. After minutes or possibly hours have passed, he shakes himself and crawls slowly under the thin blankets on a bed, any bed, whichever bed. It takes a while to get comfortable – he can’t really lie on his left side, he discovers, and he’s never really been one for sleeping on his back, and so in the end he is still tossing and turning when BA emerges from the bathroom.

“You covered up those cuts, Face?” He can hear the frown in the other man’s voice even from his current position, head buried under a pillow. 

Damn. He hadn’t even thought of that, and that certainly might be one reason he’s having trouble finding a position where the stitches in his leg don’t catch on the sheets. Heaving a sigh, he struggles back up to a sitting position, finding BA already sitting facing him on the other bed, the makeshift first aid kit open beside him. With another sigh he just holds out his left arm.

BA works in silence, carefully smoothing antiseptic cream over the scrapes before wrapping a clean dressing around his entire lower arm, from elbow right down to the wrist, hiding the worst of the bruising from sight as well. “Up,” he orders gruffly, and Face obeys with a small smile, pushing to his feet in order to let his teammate perform the same actions on his thigh.

A matter of only minutes before BA is taping the bandage into place, strong hands warm on Face’s suddenly chilled skin as he smoothes imaginary creases from the clean white material, hands lingering. Swallowing hard, Face dares to reach out his right hand and stroke his fingers through that familiar Mohawk. He’s so very glad the other man shaved it back into place, and the damp hair slips through his fingers easily as BA finally lifts his head to meet Face’s questioning gaze. 

“You okay?” Face asks after another minute has passed between them. “Bosco?”

Brown eyes stare into his, and Face can see the reflection of his own exhaustion there. They should just go to bed, really, the pair of them. Separate beds, until they get the chance to talk. Neither of them are in any state tonight. BA blinks first, dropping his gaze back to where his hands are still smoothing up and down Face’s injured leg. “Ask you a question?” the big man mumbles after a moment, and Face frowns.

“Of course,” he whispers in reply. “Anything.”

“Did Hannibal ask you to do that?” What? Face can feel his frown deepening as BA continues. “The whole thing with the handcuff key, and the escape. That was Hannibal’s plan, right? He asked you to do that?”

“Well… No, I was improvising.” Face supposes that’s as good as word as anything for what he did back at the docks. Hannibal had taught him everything he could about planning ahead, but in a situation like that Face had been taking things one step at a time. “My plan, I guess. And Charissa’s.”

At that, BA’s hands stop their stroking, and he pulls away with a grunt, shuffling back onto his bed and manoeuvring his muscle-packed body beneath the covers. “Get some sleep, Face,” he mutters as he reaches over to snap off the last of the lights, leaving Face standing by the side of his own bed in the sudden darkness. 

Even with his healing injuries covered up, Face finds he can’t get comfortable as Bosco’s words ring in his head. Did Hannibal ask him to do it? Not in so many words, but Face knows well how his colonel thinks, after nearly a decade of working as his XO. Hannibal would have wanted a way to escape. Hannibal wouldn’t have wanted to go back to prison, wouldn’t have been happy being burned by the Army yet again. But Face was the one who provided the way out. 

And maybe Bosco hadn’t wanted to take it.

That’s a thought that had never occurred to Face, not in all their five days of running. Bosco has always been the quiet one of their team, the strong yet silent man, but Face never even thought that he would be the one who might have wanted to wait it out in custody. 

His exhausted body crying out for rest, Face finds his mind won’t let him sleep, and he shifts yet again on the flimsy mattress, trying and failing to stifle a groan as he fails to find a comfortable position to rest his bruised arm. Maybe sitting upright in the back of the car had been easier after all, he thinks with a grim smile, but a second later he hears movement before his blankets are lifted up, and his confusion grows.

“Scoot over,” BA hisses as he slides into the bed behind Face, draping the blankets back over them both. “On your right side.”

Stunned, Face obeys without thinking, letting Bosco spoon up behind him, all that wonderful warm muscle pressing close against his back and chasing away the last of the chill. His left thigh is raised and relatively comfortable, and Bosco slides a strong arm around his waist before finding Face’s left hand with his own. The other man holds it tight, bringing it close to Face’s chest, cushioning the bruised arm with his own and somehow finding the perfect position for them both in the too-small bed.

“Bosco – ” Face starts, but the other man doesn’t let him continue, silencing him with a firm kiss to the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“I shouldn’t’ve said that. I didn’t mean nothin’.” Barely a whisper, warm breath against Face’s skin.

Looks like they are doing this after all. “You meant something. Was it…” Face hesitates, not at all sure where to start, brain foggy. “Was it Charissa? Or, was it that you didn’t want to run? You don’t want to be here?”

“Of course I want to be here. Unless you don’t want me here?” Uncertainty in that deep voice, and Face instinctively tightens his hand around BA’s in reassurance, feeling the twinge in bruised muscles.

“Not what I meant,” he whispers. This is easier, somehow, in the darkness like this. Lying together, warm bodies comforting after so many days of stress. Not that the stress is completely gone even now. How could it be gone? Face wonders in his exhaustion if they will ever be free of stress again.

Silence for a moment. “I want to be here. Right here, with you. I know we ain’t never talked, not really, but there’s time for that.” BA’s words relax the knot that had been forming in Face’s chest, and he dares to snuggle back a fraction more into that strong embrace. “The rest… I don’t know, man.”

“Being on the run?” 

He feels BA nod against his neck, feels the other man take a deep breath. “Yeah,” comes the eventual confession. “Never thought I’d do anythin’ like this. Prison was bad enough. Even just thinkin’ about what Mama would say if she knew, her face when she finds out…” 

Oh. Face had never even considered that. Of all of them, BA is the only one with family he actually keeps in touch with. More than that, the only one with family he loves. Running from the law, chased by CIA and DoD and goodness knows who else, how will he ever see his mother?

“If you wanted to turn yourself in, I’m sure you could strike a deal,” he ventures, swallowing hard and praying the other man says no. “Tell them it was all my fault. Tell them, I don’t know, I held you at gunpoint or something.”

BA actually laughs at that, the sound loud in the silence of the motel. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere, Face. Just got some thinking to do. Thought it was Hannibal’s plan, that’s all I meant before. Not yours. Certainly not hers.” 

Charissa. He should have known that would be a problem, her help in all of this. Her part in Face’s life, both then and now. On this, at least, he can be straight with the other man. “She means nothing to me, you know that right? Just an ally. One we all need, right now.”

Another kiss to the back of his neck, and those arms tighten gently around him. BA remains silent, though this silence feels something like forgiveness. Perhaps even an apology. 

They should talk more, Face knows that, though in a strange way things feel more settled already, somehow. They never needed many words between them, not when they were just colleagues, not when they became friends, and certainly not now they are… whatever they are. Whatever they might become. 

They’ll work through it, Face knows that much too. But right now they are both too exhausted, and he finds he can’t open his eyes any more. 

As tired as he is, sleep still seems miles away from Face at that moment, even though his body is warm and settled at last, held secure in strong arms. Strong arms belonging to a man who would, Face knows, follow Hannibal to the end of the world and beyond, but might not knowingly have gone along with another plan of his. Not that Face could blame BA after the mess he’d made of the docks. 

“Was a good plan, Face. Your good plan. No regrets, okay? Just sleep, now,” BA murmurs, his words little more than a series of rumbles deep in his chest. Face can feel them vibrate through his back and into his own chest. 

Had it been a good plan? BA had just said so. Hannibal had said so too, earlier, not with words but with gestures, which meant far more. As for Murdock… well, who could ever tell what Murdock thought about anything?

“Get some sleep,” BA repeats again, his voice softer still. “Sleep, Temp. We can talk some more in the morning, if you want. It’ll all be okay – I ain’t going nowhere, and I ain’t letting you go nowhere neither. The rest… It’ll all be okay. ” 

Face soon hears the familiar and soothing sounds of BA snoring as the other man seems to fall asleep in seconds. Those strong arms remain tight around him, still cushioning and supporting his bruised body, and with the other man’s words still echoing in his head, the last of his strength drains away and sleep beckons at last. 

It really will be okay, he tells himself, despite all the uncertainty, despite the days of running. They’re together, the four of them. He and BA are together, too, and he’s surprised by just how important that fact is. The rest will come.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally designed to be the first part in a multi-chapter story focussing on the fall-out from the team's escape at the end of the movie. Sadly I lost the motivation for this story - I got distracted by many other plot bunnies as well as by real life - but I always felt bad that I'd left it unfinished. I eventually went back to it and added a concluding section, though it perhaps still does need a sequel at some point in the future. Hopefully this reads well enough as a stand-alone piece now. 
> 
> The original draft can be found on my lj page (same username) if anyone is curious about the changes I made.


End file.
